It Was Easy
by thamockingjayandpeeta
Summary: A story about how Haymitch & Effie came to be during the three books. Appearances by Katniss, Peeta, Cinna, Portia, Plutarch, Johanna, Gale, Annie, Finnick, Chaff, & Coin. **WILL HAVE MULTIPLE CHAPTERS**
1. Chapter 1

**Of course I'm not Suzanne Collins. I'd much rather be JK Rowling since Harry Potter is WAY more happily ever after than Hunger Games ever was.**

**Hey! So I've joined the Hayffie bandwagon, but only because of the movies. With that said, it is a known fact that Effie joined the Rebellion for personal reasons as opposed to political reasons, which I think had everything to do with Haymitch, Katniss, and Peeta. Though the Epilogue didn't mention Effie, there were a lot of things that were not mentioned, so that doesn't mean that Effie wasn't around. I don't think Katniss would have demanded Effie be given immunity if Katniss didn't think Effie deserved it.**

**With all that said, I got tired of reading the fanfic where Haymitch kept Effie in the dark. I think she would have known some things. Imagine how pissed off Effie would have been about the Mockingjay dress incident if she hadn't known. I think she knew what was going on, and I think she helped Haymitch and Cinna, though I do think Haymitch would have done his best to make sure her information was limited. **

**All in all, I think once Haymitch looked passed the surface of things, he'd have seen the REAL Effie. **

**This is that story.**

**Leave Reviews Lovely People**

**-thamockingjayandpeeta**

Words: 4,737

The approached him because he was Haymitch Abernathy, Victor of the 50th Hunger Games, and he had beat the system, which meant that the Capitol hated him. They didn't want to approach him because he was a drunk, and could be a mean one at that. Still, he was smart, and could be an asset.

They came to him several years before, quietly, softly, but he'd never really responded. He wasn't afraid. No, the Capitol had already taken everything and everyone from him, so he had nothing left to lose.

It was just… what was the _point_? The Capitol always, _always_ won in the end, no matter what.

He'd been intrigued, though, and late into the darkness one night, he went to District 8, where he met Commander Paylor, on a night so black that the moon was nowhere to be found. She had known how to get to him.

"Aren't you tired of having to mentor Tributes, only to see them die?"

She was quick and straight to the point, manipulative, but in a good way.

So he was on board, but after losing more Tributes, he started drinking even more heavily, and the last thing on his mind was rebelling.

And then _she_ changed everything, the minute she had volunteered for her sister.

He still remembered the look on Effie's face when she called out 'Primrose Everdeen.' Her lower lip had trembled, and he had worked with her enough to know that the younger ones always saddened her. As sad as a Capitol Escort could be, at least.

He also knew the danger in showing any sorrow towards the Games, how it made you a target, so he did the only thing he could think of, to get the attention off of her, and he never understood _why_ he did it. He just knew that Effie would never be able to handle what the Capitol did to its traitors, so he'd fallen off stage to distract the cameras from Effie's momentary lapse of sanity.

He convinced himself that he had fallen off stage because Katniss has volunteered, and he was preparing himself for a heart attack from the shock of it all.

He'd been stunned, absolutely stunned, because the only other people who volunteered to be a Tribute were the same ones who had been prepared and prepped for the Games, all of their lives.

It didn't take long for him to realize these two were fighters. He'd nearly scoffed when Peeta's name had been called. What the hell was he going to do with a _merchant_? That merchant had fought him, and Katniss had enough spark to make them all feel the heat.

In those few seconds after he and Peeta's scuffle, he realized that maybe he needed to lay off the alcohol and actually mentor these two, because they possessed something he'd forgotten existed: a fight.

"_That is mahogany_," Effie had said, and any thoughts of not drinking quickly flew out the window.

But there was something… _different_ about these two, and soon Katniss' spark was turning into a fire that set them all ablaze.

In all his twenty-four years as a mentor, he couldn't remember ever once pulling Caesar aside, trying to convince him to paint a Tribute in a favorable light. Normally nobody had to persuade Caesar. He was there to make the Tributes more favorable, but for the first time Haymitch was taking an interest in these two Tributes from his District.

And he wasn't the only taking notice of them. Suddenly people were noticing the Tributes from District 12, with Peeta's strength, Katniss' aim, the scores they had gotten, and their designs by Cinna.

Cinna…. Cinna, who had a certain… fire in his own eye, a tiny, minute rebellious flame that lit up every now and then. Cinna, who'd been assigned to this District, at his own request. He made sure that Katniss and Peeta always stood out above the rest, not dressing them by their District standards, but _rebelliously_ by something intriguing, even taking Peeta's point into view when dressing Katniss.

Surely there was no way the Rebellion in District 8 and 13 actually had people from the _Capitol_ convinced.

Then again, didn't they have Plutarch in their pocket? Plutarch, who was slowly but surely working his way up to being a Gamekeeper. He was a prominent member of the Capitol, but he was also one of the most respected to those who supported the Rebellion.

But there was just something about Cinna, something Haymitch couldn't quite put his finger on, something that made him think of Cinna as a friend, as opposed to a foe.

Cinna would be the first person from the Capitol that he actually somewhat liked, but Haymitch convinced himself it was only because of the loyalty he showed to Katniss. Therefore, he never said anything, he somewhat kept his distance, because if Cinna were apart of the Rebellion, surely someone from the inside would have said something.

No, maybe Cinna was just nice.

But when the fuck were Capitol people _nice_?

Once the Games officially started, the drinking stopped, and it wasn't easy, with the withdrawals he felt, but suddenly there was something more important than the bottle, and he found himself talking to people, trying to get Sponsors for Katniss.

He wasn't sure what made him so drawn to Katniss. That fact that they were both from the Seam, maybe, or the fact that they were both stubborn and rough around the edges. Whatever the reason, she just seemed like she had a better chance at winning than Peeta, though Haymitch had to admit that he was rooting for the boy as well.

He could see Effie glancing at him out of the corner of her eye every now and then, with the way he was running around like a mad man trying to get Katniss everything she needed. She didn't seem surprised, which shocked him. When he'd catch her gaze sometimes, his gray eyes meeting her blue ones, there'd be satisfaction in them, as if this was Haymitch she'd been waiting for.

Or maybe it was the moment she was waiting for. If one of their Tributes won, she'd get to transfer to another District.

Haymitch had to admit he wouldn't be sorry to see her go.

He'd need a Victor, first, and in order to get that, he had to come up with another plan.

The star-struck lovers was only the beginning.

xXxXxX

"I have an idea," he said aloud to Cinna and Effie one day. Effie and Cinna looked at him expectantly. "I'm going to ask Seneca Crane to let there be two Victors."

He expected Effie to laugh and say in her Capitol accident, "That is just absurd, Haymitch. The Capitol will never go for it." In replace of mockery he saw… was that… _hope_? No. it couldn't be.

Instead Cinna was the voice of reason. "You know that'll never work," he said, looking directly at Haymitch.

"I know," replied Haymitch.

The two men stared at each other for several moments and then Cinna turned to Effie. "Could you excuse us for a moment please?"

She'd seemed taken aback, but she blinked away her confusions, her manners never allowing herself to deny such a polite request. When Effie was gone Cinna closed the door and turned up the TV.

Haymitch's heart was pounding.

He watched as Cinna poured a glass of wine, and then some harder stuff for Haymitch.

Putting the glass to his own lips, Cinna said, "What are you thinking, Haymitch?"

He knew what Cinna was asking, but Haymitch was too frozen to respond. Everything, _everything_ Cinna had just done was textbook: Closing the door and turning up the volume, in case their room was bugged, which it probably wasn't; putting the glass to his lips to block out even the best experts at lip-reading, in case they were being watched, which they probably were not.

Cinna seemed amused by his lack of response.

"I didn't think you'd be so surprised. I thought you suspected."

"Suspected what?" was the only thing Haymitch could ask.

Cinna smirked. "You know what. Anyway, in regards to your suggestion, if Seneca Crane allows, or even _thinks_ about allowing two people to win, it'll be his head. But I see your thinking. It'll finally get Plutarch in position, right?"

Haymitch dropped his glass, and Cinna burst out laughing.

He poured Haymitch another glass while Haymitch picked up the pieces of the glass he'd just dropped.

Cinna bent down, their heads low. "Commander Paylor would think it was a good idea," he said, his lips barely moving.

With those words, he was gone, and Haymitch was still on the floor, too stunned to move.

Nothing surprised him anymore, but this… this was a lot.

He had always known that there had been a plan in place for years.

He just hadn't known how many people had been involved.

Yet Cinna was correct. Haymitch had suspected the fashion icon, but he'd never actually thought he'd be right.

Scheduling a meeting with Seneca Crane took time, and Haymitch was worried that in the time it took to get with him, one of his Tributes would die. Sure, Peeta had hooked up with the Careers, in a brave move, even for him, but that wouldn't last long, and sure enough, it didn't.

In the meantime, while waiting for that meeting, Haymitch and Effie watched as Katniss grew close to Rue, and when she died, and Katniss buried her, he felt something in the pit of his stomach, because what she was doing, in the way she was showing respect to Rue, was so _wrong_, so not anything the Capitol had ever seen, and he had the strangest yet strongest unction that this very well could be the beginning of it all, the very moment they'd been waiting for.

Whispers had already started when it became obvious Peeta had only joined the Careers in order to protect Katniss. You don't protect the same person you came into the Arena with. You may not want to kill them. But you certainly don't protect them. They're still one of the twenty-three that had to die.

Yet it was because of this action that Haymitch had come up with the idea of two Victors.

He felt it, though, the dark looks at the screen at Rue's death, the way some people were frowning, and had tears rolling down their faces. It was such a clash to what he was used to: the cheering, the _happiness_ of it all

And Effie's reaction was what startled him the most. He watched her as she openly wept at Rue's death, not even trying to blink back the tears. Normally she would. It wasn't proper to be seen crying in public. But this time, this one time, she cried, and Haymitch was too stunned to move.

Those were real tears falling down Effie's face.

But he couldn't believe she was _sorry_. Not _Effie Trinket_, Darling citizen of the Capitol. It was laughable, thinking that Effie understood the Tribute's pain.

So that night, way later that night, when everybody was asleep, he had gone into the living room, only to find Effie in tears again as she watched the recap of Rue's death.

"Why are you crying?" Haymitch asked her, his anger rising. "You have no right to cry over them. This is nothing but entertainment to you. Don't tell me now you're beginning to see it's not as pretty as you pictured."

She could have shouted at him, or scolded him, but she just turned to him, the sadness in her eyes nearly overwhelming him, and startling him into silence, and said, "She was too young for the Games, Haymitch. Her name should have never been picked."

He walked up to the TV, not able to meet her eyes, because this Effie was confusing him. "Don't let anyone hear you talking like that, Princess."

She sighed. "What are you going to do, turn me in? _You_ of all people?"

"What's that supposed to mean" asked Haymitch, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He'd been careful, he knew he had. There was no way he'd ever let something slip to Effie.

"I mean you and all your drunken slurs and whispers of having it all end one day. I could have ratted you out for your treachery."

"So why didn't you?" asked Haymitch nastily.

She sighed again. "Because everything you accused the Capitol of being, everything you've ever said about the Capitol, turned out to be true."

It took everything in him not to look at her in surprise. Who _was_ this woman?

It didn't matter. He couldn't think about it. He wouldn't dwell on it. He just kept his eyes glued to the television screen.

"When'd you figure out the truth?" he asked her after a few moments of silence.

She paused for a long time, and he wasn't sure she would answer him.

When she did, her answer shocked him. "The 60th Hunger Games," and with those words she walked out, her heels clicking against the floor.

xXxXxX

Haymitch had tried not to reside on Effie's words, but as he lied in bed, he couldn't help it. Was she trying to set him up? Did someone suspect him, so they had ordered Effie to pretend like she cared, in order to get information from him?

No. Effie was a lot of things: naïve, oblivious, annoying, stuck in her own world, but she was not cruel or evil. Effie Trinket did not have an evil bone in her body. But surely she didn't _care_ about any of the Tributes. Those nights he had overheard her crying in her room after one of their Tributes died was only because it meant she'd never get to a different District.

Right?

Haymitch didn't have time to think about it. There was a knock on his door and Cinna walked in.

"There's something you need to see," he said, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV. Haymitch sat up as he saw the news showing District 11 rebelling. It was the only word that came to mind. They were rioting over Rue's death.

By the time District 11 sent Katniss bread Haymitch was finally allowed to talk to Seneca Crane. He seemed skeptical at first, but by the end of their meeting he had the Gamekeeper convinced.

xXxXxX

He, Effie, and Cinna watched Katniss look for Peeta after the major announcement, and felt the overwhelming relief through the TV when they found each other. Then they watched Peeta and Katniss in the cave.

"She doesn't know it yet," Effie said, "but she definitely loves that boy."

"Yah, I'm sure they'll live happily ever after, if they don't die first," said Haymitch sarcastically.

"Oh. Right." Haymitch turned to Effie, but she didn't meet his eyes.

"He needs medicine," muttered Haymitch.

"No he doesn't," Effie said. Haymitch and Cinna turned to her and she smiled sadly at them. "You're not the only one with tricks up your sleeve." She walked to the couch and reached into a large bag, holding a canister.

"Where did you get that?"

"I bought it," she said.

"Effie," gasped Cinna.

"I won't let him die," Effie whispered.

"Right. Couldn't miss an opportunity to move on up," said Haymitch bitterly, and she spun around her, eyes blazing, and it startled him, genuinely startled him to see the anger in her eyes.

"Haymitch," she said, he Capitol voice clipping out harshly, "I have dealt with your drunkenness. I have dealt with your crude remarks and bad manners and even worse language. But do _not_ say _anything_ to me in regards to my Tributes." She shoved the canister of medicine into his chest and stalked off.

"You don't have to be so cold to her, Haymitch," Cinna said. "She's not as bad as you think."

"I know," he responded without thinking, and he _did_ know. "It's just easier this way, because…." His voice trailed off.

"Because she's not as cold and clueless as you thought she was," finished Cinna.

It scared him, terrified him really, because he had no idea what to do with this Effie, with her gift giving, tear-stained cheeks, and soft mumbles. What he did know, and it was a hard pill to swallow, was that Effie had put up with all of his shit for the past nineteen years, and she had never once left.

She'd never even really judged him.

She didn't approve, no, but she still covered him up those nights he fell asleep on the floor, too drunk to make it to his room. She still made sure he was fed, and presentable at every single event they went to.

She was still there, by his side, and that said more than anything, because he had lost count of the amount of people who had given up on him.

He knocked on her door later on that night but didn't get a response. Either she was ignoring him or she was a hard sleeper. Either way, he wasn't about to beg her to talk to him, so he made his way to the living room.

She was in there again, still watching the Games.

"Can't sleep?" he asked her, approaching her.

"I tried to, but no, I can't." He sat down across from her. "Why hasn't Katniss received the medicine yet? You did get it to them, didn't you? I didn't poison it, you know. Oh, but of course you know, because you know that I want our Tributes alive, but only so I could move to a different District." He could have told her that he wasn't sure why they hadn't received the medicine yet, but that would be taking the easy way.

"I owe you an apology, Effie, I never should have said that."

"Don't apologize, Haymitch. It's not only what you think, it's how you feel, deep in your bones. You think I don't know? You think I don't see it in your eyes? The disgust every time you look at me?"

"If you see disgust it's because it's a reflection of your eyes when you look at me. Don't think I haven't noticed," Haymitch replied coldly.

"I just expected so much _more_ of you, Haymitch, and yes, it was naïve of me, but damn it you were a former _Victor_." She turned to him, her eyes lit up with her argument. "You were smart, you _had_ to be in order to win the Games, and I thought you would do a world of good in mentoring those who got picked from 12. Instead you gave up on them and drank and drank and _drank_." She took a deep breath. "And I knew, in my heart, that if you just _tried_, you could make all the difference in the world to our Tributes, because you were Haymitch Abernathy, and you had the brains and the skill to win. And I was right, because this year you've shown me what I've always been waiting to see in you, what I've always wanted to see in you."

Haymitch didn't know what to say to that. She was being so sincere that he actually started to feel bad, and he couldn't remember the last time he felt bad about something.

Hell, other than the Rebellion, he couldn't remember the last time he felt anything at all, be it good or bad.

"I'm sorry, Effie," he said again.

"I already told you I don't want your apology."

"Then what do you want from me?" he snapped out.

He needed a drink. He was so cranky because he needed alcohol.

"I don't expect us to be friends, Haymitch. After nineteen years of solid dislike, I don't know if we could just… magically be friends. I stopped believing in fairytales a long time ago. So I'm not asking for friendship. Friends call and check up on each other, see how the other is doing. I know once these Games are over I won't see or hear from you until next year's Reaping. And I'm okay with that. I just want you to remember, when we are together, that we're on the same team. And I know it doesn't seem like it, because you think I look at the Games as nothing more than entertainment. But you're wrong." She stood up, her eyes bright with tears. "You're not the only one who gets nightmares from the Games, you know. And you damn sure aren't the only one who hurts when a Tribute dies."

She started to walk away but he grabbed her wrist as she passed him, and he had no idea why, or what he was going to say. She stared at him, her blue eyes still filled with unshed tears.

"Winning the Games was the worst mistake of my life," he whispered to her. "Afterwards the Capitol took everything from me. And everyone. All because I 'beat the system.' They tell you to win by any means necessary, but only if it doesn't upstage them. President Snow had those I loved the most killed, and somehow I was supposed to get over it and mentor other Tributes. A few years after I won they send you, with your pink wig, big smile, and five-inch heels, always so damn cheerful, and I thought, 'Here's a completely clueless airhead, who knows nothing about heartache and pain.' It took one sentence to come out of your mouth for me to assume you were just like the rest of them. I took that first impression and made it a fact, and that was wrong."

The tears that hadn't fallen finally shed, and they angered him.

"Don't pity me, Effie. And please, _please_ don't pretend your nightmares compare to mine."

"Just because I don't share your horror and pain, does not mean I can't and don't empathize with them."

He let go of her wrist. "Touché," he said.

She started to walk away again when he called out, "Why did the 60th Hunger Games change your perspective?"

She stopped walking and slowly turned around.

"It changes you," she told him, "seeing someone you know go through that. They aired your Games all weekend, pretty much, since it was your ten-year anniversary, and I watched. But I didn't get any thrills that time. Instead I was horrified. Completely and utterly disgusted with what you had to do. Seeing you watch Maysilee die…." She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath. "I understood why you were the way you were. I understood the drinking, and the anger, and the bitterness. I don't think I'd have been any different if it were me."

The more she talked the more he had no idea who this Effie was.

"You need a haircut," she told him, ruffling his hair, and it was the first time they'd ever touched, _really_ touched, and he felt something stir, in the pit of his stomach, but before he could place the feeling her hand was gone. "Goodnight, Haymitch."

And with that, she left.

xXxXxX

The next morning the two of them acted cordial and polite, as opposed to ignoring each other or shooting each other nasty looks. He'd spent his remaining hours awake trying to figure out what the hell was happening between him and Effie. Had they just reached an understanding?

He didn't have too much time to think about it in the day that followed, because Thresh had not only just saved Katniss' life, but he had allowed her to walk free.

Effie had been over the moon, but Haymitch and Cinna shared a glance.

They knew. They understood, that no matter who won this Game, no matter the outcome, the Rebellion had started, because Snow was going to retaliate. District 11 sending the bread was something that sparked outrage to those who held the Capitol's best interest at heart, and the stunt that Thresh had just pulled would cost him his life if he survived the Games.

Haymitch watched on, his heart thumping loudly in his chest, as he realized that pretty soon, nothing would ever be the same.

Things were changing between him and Effie as well. He didn't know what that talk had done for them, but somehow they had developed somewhat of a routine. Late at night, while everyone else was asleep, they would be in the living room, watching the Games together. It was something that would have never happened in last year's Games, or the year before that, or the year before that.

They became more than tolerable to each other, and it was weird, really, really, _really_ weird, but it seemed like their talk had forced them to reach a mutual understanding.

That night Effie, Cinna, and Haymitch all sat up, watching the Games as they came to a close. Katniss and Peeta were the only two people left from the same District, and Effie was a bundle of nerves. Cinna was tense as he watched, and Haymitch was sitting next to him, trying to keep his face neutral as he stared from Effie to the TV.

He had the feeling that she was about to burst, and sure enough, when the mutt mutations came, she flipped.

"Got damn it! Damn them, damn them, _damn them_!" She stood up and so did Haymitch, walking towards her.

"Can you keep it down, I'm trying to watch," Cinna said, turning up the volume, and he and Haymitch locked eyes for the briefest of seconds.

Smart man, Cinna.

"Shut up, shut _up_," he snapped at Effie, standing closely to her. He covered her mouth and forced her into a hug, holding her tightly. "You do not _ever_ speak ill of the Capitol, Effie, unless you are one hundred percent sure there is nothing or nobody that will turn on you. This room is bugged, I'd bet my pathetic life on it. You wanna be angry, fine, but you do so in your head, or you blast the radio or turn the TV up. Am I clear?"

She was trembling against him and when he pushed her away to look at her, her blue eyes were wide.

"Do you _understand_, Effie?"

She nodded.

They were so into their conversation that the only thing that bought them out of them was the sound of the cannon.

Both Effie and Haymitch turned to the TV and sighed with relief when they saw Katniss and Peeta, still alive.

That was short lived.

When Claudius announced that the new rule would be revoked, Effie let out a gasp. His blood turned to ice as he watched Peeta withdraw his knife and Katniss point her bow at him. He couldn't make out words as he watched Katniss and Peeta talk. He heard nothing. He just saw Peeta throw his knife on the ground, and then Katniss do the same with her bow.

When she reached for the berries, he knew.

"Oh, shit," Cinna whispered, because Cinna knew too.

"Oh my God," choked out Effie.

Time seemed to stand still as the berries made their way to his Tribute's mouth. Effie moaned and sank to the floor, but at the last possible second, Claudius' voice boomed out and Haymitch heard Effie sigh in relief.

She smiled as she stood up, actually _smiled_, and he knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Effie Trinket had no idea what this meant.

"They won, Haymitch!" Effie squealed, and she ran to him and hugged him, wrapped her arms around him and then kissed him gently on the cheek, and it was the pleasure that pissed him off; not the pleasure on her face, not her happiness, but the way his heart stupidly started pounding faster when her lips brushed his cheeks, her soft lips tickling is stubble. "They won!" she repeated.

"Stop it," snapped Haymitch, gripping her.

"Haymitch, what is it? You should be happy. Our Tributes finally won!"

"Nobody ever, _ever_ wins the Games, Princess," he told her coldly. His heart was still pounding, and he continued to try and convince himself that it was only because he knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and not her kiss. "We have to go," he told her and Cinna. "We need to get to Katniss and Peeta as quickly as possible."

"Why? What's wrong?"

He could tell the urgency in his voice was getting to her, and she looked panicked.

He didn't answer question, just repeated his earlier statement.

"We have to go. Now."


	2. Chapter 2

Words: 4,601

Between the ending of the Games and the beginning of the Victory Tour, a lot things happened. First and foremost, Districts were rebelling. They were unruly and disruptive, not at all their usual puppet selves, and Haymitch knew that there would be hell to pay. Not everybody knew about the Rebellious spirit, though, as Snow was doing a good job of covering it all up.

There was a lot more contact between him and Districts and 8 and 13. Secret messages were delivered at the highest rate they'd ever been delivered, Messengers traveling up to two times a day now as opposed to once a week. Haymitch had gotten more notes, read and then burned into ash, these past few months than he had in the past five years combined.

Things were falling into place.

Plutarch being named Gamekeeper obviously worked in their favor, and they were trying to work out how Haymitch was going to stay on as the mentor. Technically now that Katniss and Peeta were winners, his job was done. Sometimes mentors were allowed to stay on, depending on how young the winner—and that term is used loosely—was, but that was rare. For now, though, duty called, and he, along with everybody else, were about to go on Tour for the next two weeks.

It was crazy how much would change in those two weeks.

When it is time for the train to leave, he is dressed and ready to go, and he deliberately ignored the feeling in his stomach at the sight of Effie, even going as far as to admit that they were definitely _not_ butterflies.

They hadn't talked much since after the Final Interviews. He'd been too busy trying to warn Katniss about what was about to happen, because attempting to take their own lives was pretty much declaring war right then and there, and President Snow would _not_ go gently into that good night. Not without a fight.

He knew he had to keep up his normal appearance of drunkenness and cool indifference to Effie Trinket, especially with President Snow looming around with hidden cameras, so when she said, "Hello, Haymitch," softly, and quietly as he got on the train, he had responded with,

"Princess," not meeting her eye, and heading onto the train, immediately reaching for a bottle.

They had no idea that he'd already instructed Cinna to dump out most of the alcohol and replace it with water, only leaving a few untouched bottles.

By the first night of the Victory Tour, Katniss tells Haymitch that she's under immense pressure from Snow to convince all the Districts that she was in love with Peeta, and though the Girl on Fire was too dumb to see that she was already in love with the boy, Katniss hated being told what to do. She had feelings for him, but she felt like they had been forced upon her, so naturally, she was fighting them tooth and nail.

Getting caught kissing Gale was the dumbest mistake of them all.

Some nights he drunk himself unconscious simply because he couldn't understand how on earth she was going to be their Mockingjay, and it was moment like these that made him to do so.

On his sober days, though, he understood why. She was incredible, really, and her stubbornness was the reason she was known as the Girl on Fire. They needed Katniss. They could not, and would not, do this without her.

Well technically they could, but their attempt would not be at all successful.

Haymitch could tell Katniss was at her wit's end when she snapped at Effie. They all stared at her outburst. Haymitch took a quick glance at Effie, saw the hurt in her blue eyes, and then his eyes turned to Katniss', gray meeting gray. Katniss stared back him defiantly, and he understood that she expected him to be on her side, because that's how he normally treated Effie.

"Well no one does," Katniss muttered, getting up and stalking off. A few seconds later Peeta follows, leaving Effie and Haymitch alone.

"I guess I'll go see how long this'll put us behind schedule," said Effie softly, and for a moment he want to call after her, but the thought of wanting to comfort her startles him, so her name catches in his throat.

Later on that night he found her sitting on the couch, nursing one of her pretty little drinks. She looked up when he entered, and then quickly looked back down at her notes.

"What are you still doing up?" he asked her.

"Couldn't sleep," mumbled Effie, and he had barely heard her.

"Manners, Effie," he said with a smile, and her head shot up.

"Haymitch. I had no idea in the nineteen years you'd been around me that you'd actually _heard_ me when I talked to you."

"Heard you? Yes. Ignored you? Absolutely." He poured himself a pretend glass of alcohol and drank up.

"Are you going to drink yourself into oblivion during the Victory Tour too?"

He felt himself tense, though he didn't know why. You'd think he'd be used to the disappointment in her voice by now.

"What's it to you?"

"Oh, nothing," she said coolly. "I just thought the Haymitch I'd seen last year might still be in there somewhere, is all."

"Listen, Princess, don't get your hopes up in regards to me. Katniss, Peeta, our new Tributes… yes. They deserve it. But me?" He tossed his drink back and slammed the glass on the table, wishing it was real liquor. "I've been a goner since the minute my name was drawn from the Reaping."

"I just thought… after the last Games—"

"Forget the last Games," Haymitch snapped out.

"I don't want to," she told him, her eyes flashing, and Haymitch stared at her. "I thought we… I thought you… we're a _team_, damn it. Aren't we? We finally won, and we got to keep both our Victors. Haven't we proven that when we put our heads together that we're capable of anything?"

Now he wished he had a bottle as opposed to just a glass.

"Effie…." He sighed. "Just… give me a few days, okay? Just let me make it through this. I haven't been on one these since my Games, and it's not exactly a bloody picnic."

"Of course. I didn't think… it was rude of me, really, to not consider how hard this must be for you." She stood up, gathering her papers, and walked passed him, lightly brushing his arm as she headed to her room, softly whispering, "Goodnight, Haymitch," and since he wasn't really drinking alcohol he got the chance to smell her as she approached him, and she smelled like strawberries and vanilla, and it gave him goose bumps.

What was _happening_ to him?

Needless to say, things were tense by the time they arrived to 11, and having Peacekeepers there certainly did not help.

Haymitch felt his heart hammering in his chest, and noticed that Cinna was just as tense as he was. The two shared a brief glance, and Haymitch understood that Snow was retaliating, increasing the military defense as a warning to all those who dared whisper of a Rebellion.

Still, he'd tried to convince himself that nothing was going to happen right here, right now. All Katniss and Peeta had to do was read the Capitol cue cards, stand there and look pretty, and get the fuck out of there.

Why he didn't think it'd all go to hell, he'd never know.

The minute Peeta announced that he wanted to give 11 a shared of their winnings, he cursed.

"Can he do that?" asked Cinna.

"No. But he just did," Haymitch said.

And then all hell broke lose when Katniss got up to speak.

They said Peeta was the one who had a way with words, but there was a reason Katniss would be the Mockingjay, and it was because of moments like this. He was caught up in her words, noting Effie was blinking back tears, when suddenly an older man whistled out the four-note tune.

Oh shit.

Haymitch immediately grabbed Effie's wrist. She jerked, but he was ready to pull her away at a moment's notice, and he wasn't sure why he was coming so readily to her defense, but he couldn't think about it now.

When he knew what was a gunshot fired, he handed Effie off to Cinna and started to make his way towards the door. Before he could reach it Peeta and Katniss came through it, looking tense and upset.

"What happened?"

Peeta mumbled some bullshit about a car backfiring. Haymitch was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them, so he grabbed his Tributes, keeping an eye on the Peacekeepers, who seemed content since they were all inside, and made his way up the old staircase, not stopping until they were near the roof.

Haymitch watches as Peeta loses his cool when Katniss explains that Snow confronted her, and he realized how much he cares for the boy, and the girl, as he watched the betrayal fills Peeta's eyes, and it ultimately makes Haymitch feel bad.

He rarely feels bad.

Katniss looks like she's one breath away from passing out, and he wants to roll his eyes, because he can't understand how anyone could be so blind and dumb.

He agreed to no longer keep Peeta in the dark, because the truth is, he never deserved it. He explains to them both, but mainly to Peeta, how he knew that Peeta would want Katniss alive, and that is why he chose her.

When Peeta walks away, Haymitch nearly smiles. The kid's not as soft as he had originally thought.

He thought back to what he had told Katniss earlier.

She really could do way worse.

xXxXxX

Later, way later that night, when Haymitch finally cracked and opened on of his real bottles of alcohol, he's lying half drunk on his bed, willing himself to keep drinking so that he could actually get some damn sleep tonight.

A scream forces him out of his drunken haze and he sits up, too fast as the room starts to spin. He forgets everything, though, when he hears the scream again, and all he can think of his mother and his girl, the only women he'd ever loved, and that this must be a dream.

This is why he drank himself unconscious.

But he awake, wasn't he?

He stood up and made his way to the door, opening it just in time to see Peeta run into Katniss' room. Convinced Katniss was now going to be okay, Haymitch was about to retreat back into his room when another door opened.

Effie stepped out, slipping on her robe, and he's astounded at not only how _normal_ she looks, but how beautiful she is without the pounds of makeup and the wig. Her hair is thick and curly, the color or sunlight in summer, and her face is the color of cream. Her eyes are bluer than he'd ever seen them, and they were dazzling and scintillating, gorgeous really, and he had to look away, because if he didn't he'd drown in them, drown in those eyes that were the color of the bluest ocean.

"What's wrong with Katniss?" asked Effie, bringing him out of his stupor, and he thanked God that she'd been staring at the end of the hall where Katniss' room was located as opposed to at him, otherwise she'd have caught him staring.

"She was having nightmare." He noticed his voice was firm, but cold, and he was proud of himself, because he thought his words might come out as a whisper. He could feel the confusion creeping in at this newfound attraction to Effie, the one he wasn't drunk enough to not admit started during last year's Games. "We all get nightmares from the Games. Well, except you."

He was being an asshole, and he knew it, but he had to do something, because her beauty was blinding him.

Effie ignores him, however, and starts to head towards Katniss' room. Haymitch stops her, though. "Don't bother. Peeta's taking care of her."

"Oh, that's good," breathed Effie, clearly relieved.

"Wow, Princess, I had no idea you cared," Haymitch said sarcastically.

Effie looked at him then, noting the bottle in his hand. "No, you wouldn't have an idea, would you? You wouldn't know I cared, because you're always too drunk to get to know me. In twenty years you still think I'm the same sadistic Capitol bitch who pulls the names out of fishbowl that sends kids to their deaths. But you're wrong, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why, after twenty years, it still hurts."

He cringed, actually cringed when she headed to her room, slamming the door behind her.

His last sober thought was apparently Katniss isn't the only blind and dumb one.

The next morning at lunch (he'd slept through breakfast), she talked to him, Katniss and Peeta like nothing's wrong. She explains that they will be having dance lessons today so that they will be able to dance when they get to the Capitol party. When Katniss and Peeta leave Haymitch notices the room grows tense as they're now alone.

He wants to apologize for last night, but instead he asked, "How do you do that?"

Effie closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if she's trying to calm herself down. Or trying to remain polite. Probably the latter. "Do _what_, Haymitch?" she asked as peacefully as she could, and he realized that it's a genuine effort for her.

"Be all frilly and fruity and friendly, even though half the time you want to hit me over the head with table. Which," he added at the last moment, "I'd deserve."

She seemed to realize this was the closest she'd get to an apology, and she took it as gracefully as she'd taken Katniss'. "Don't be ridiculous, Haymitch. I'd never hit you over the head with the table." Her eyes slowly warmed as they stared into his and he quickly looked away.

"Only because it's mahogany," muttered Haymitch.

She laughed, which made him look at her again. "That, and because as hard as your head is, you'd break it. And then where would we eat?"

xXxXxX

Haymitch was sure he was about to pass out. The Victory Tour never got better, and pretending to be drunk when he wasn't really drinking made him want to really drink.

Peeta had proposed to Katniss, and doing so nearly broke Peeta.

It nearly broke Haymitch, too, because that meant he had to be around for the pretend engagement and the fake photo shoots.

All it meant was more cameras, and all he really wanted was peace and quiet.

And liquor. Lots and lots of liquor.

With everything that he had gone through ever since he had came out alive during the 50th Hunger Games, didn't he deserve that?

Instead he had to deal with a broken hearted Peeta, a distraught Katniss, and a subdued Effie.

It genuinely bothered him that there was something… off wit her. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about the way that she was acting that seemed strangely off to him.

He didn't have long to think about it, though. He was too busy coaching his Tributes into sounding like humans as opposed to drones as they read their cue cards in each District.

By the time they arrived at the Capitol, for the party at Snow's mansion, Haymitch's head hurt from lack of alcohol. He could deal with the withdrawals. It was the damn nightmares that plagued him.

He was seriously starting to doubt any of this was worth it.

Still, he was so relieved to be here, and that was certainly a change, but he knew that being here meant he'd get to go home soon. After the dinner at the mayor's and the Harvest Festival, he'll be free to drink himself into oblivion.

At least until he gets his next instructions from Plutarch, Coin, or Paylor.

He dressed in a suit Cinna had bought for him. The designer had come into his room last night, turned on the radio, and informed them that since this might be his last major event, he should dress the part. He had handed him a jet-black suit, tailor made to fit him, a red tie to match, and when Haymitch put it on he realized that minus the bags under his eyes, he looked damned good.

He allowed Flavius to cut a few inches of his hair and then made his way to the party.

When they were all ready, lining up outside the train, Haymitch gaped.

Katniss, though getting thinner by the minute, looked good, as usual. Peeta was as handsome as ever.

But Effie.

Shit.

She wore a bright red dress, a one piece that was so utterly un-Effie like that Haymitch had no idea what to make of it. It was… daring, and hugged all her curves in exactly the right way: the way that made men appreciate her curves, and silently beg for more. The mask and wig were in place, as usual, but they didn't take away from the dress.

He caught Peeta staring at him stare at Effie and quickly turned away.

It was then that he remembered his tie was red.

He was going to _kill_ Cinna.

They make their way towards the mansion, in the order Effie tells them to walk, but once they reach the crowd Haymitch quickly disperses and makes his way to the bar. The Tour is almost over, so he's allowed to drink himself unconscious.

Haymitch is on his third drink when Peeta comes up to him. "You should dance with her," he said.

"What?" asked Haymitch, though he had heard the boy loud and clear.

"You should dance with her," Peeta repeated.

"Dance with who?"

"You know who," said Peeta, clearly amused. "You've been staring at her all night."

"Jesus. Is that obvious?"

"Probably not, but this is me you're talking to."

Haymitch sighed and drunk the rest of his drink in one gulp and then heads to interrupt Effie, who's talking to some Capitol bimbo.

"May I?" Haymitch asked, holding out his hand. She seemed surprised, but accepts.

"Here to throw up on my shoes?" asked Effie, and he can see the side of her mouth twitching. He bursts out into laughter.

"Forgot about that night," he told her fondly.

"Wish I could," she said with a small laugh. Then she makes a comment about how well he dances.

"It's been a long time," admitted Haymitch.

"I wish you could hear about how the women have been fawning over you tonight. They all want to know what it is I've done to warrant you to look so decent. I told them bitterly that I had no part in your attire tonight, that you dressed yourself, and all on your own too."

He stared at her, not quite sure what to make of what she just said. Was she complimenting him?

"You clean up quite nicely yourself," he told her genuinely. "Nice dress, by the way."

She arched an eyebrow. "Well that's certainly a first. Usually you hate my dresses. Remember that time you told Katniss you liked her dress, but then you turned to me and said, 'Not yours.'"

Amused, Haymitch let out a snort. "Well clearly this dress is different."

"Cinna's design," said Effie.

Haymitch nodded. "I guess his designs suit more than Katniss, then." He hadn't meant to say it, and he wondered if the alcohol was finally starting to get to him. He turned away from her when she blushed, and held his breath when she rested her head on his chest, trying his best to ignore her scent of strawberries and vanilla. "Don't get too attached, Princess. I've come to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? What do you mean?" He missed the panic in her voice, and as he wasn't meeting her eyes, he missed the panic in them too.

"I'm not longer 12's mentor now. Kantiss and Peeta are. My days are over."

She felt her heart stop.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded him. "Katniss and Peeta are much too young to mentor on their own. Surely the Capitol knows that. Surely you want—"

"You have no idea how wrong you are in that aspect. Word's can't express how tired I am of having to watch these kids die. They need you, though."

"And they need you too, Haymitch!"

"No one needs me," he assured her bitterly. "I've sent forty-eight other children to their deaths. I don't get to undo all that by finally bringing home two Victors."

"So you're just going to _leave_?" He didn't understand why she seemed so upset.

"Yah," he told her honestly. She seemed livid. "What's it to you?"

"I've been promoted, Haymitch. They offered me a job as an Escort in 6." He stops dancing abruptly, and she follows, quickly lowering her arms. It took all of the strength within her not only not cower away under his dark gaze, but to also not runaway.

If looks could kill….

"So all that talk about us being a team was what, bullshit?" He wasn't sure why he was so angry, except for the realization that for all her talk, it seemed as if Effie still only wanted to please herself and her beloved Capitol.

And suddenly he knew why'd she'd been acting so strange.

"Says the man who just said he was no longer going to mentor."

"That's different. I'm losing my job. You're gaining another."

"Haymitch—"

"You should take the job, Effie. There's no need to worry about us poor folks from 12. I'm sure having two Victors will look excellent on your resume."

She was about to hit him when Plutarch approached them then.

"Ah, Haymitch, there you are," he said. "Been looking all over for you near the bar."

"I regret I wasn't there," said Haymitch with an edge to his voice.

"I'm not," Plutarch said. "Then I would have missed the opportunity to miss this lovely young lady."

Haymitch held in a sigh. "Plutarch, this is Effie Trinket. Effie, this is Plutarch Heavensbee."

Effie held out her hand, her polite smile back on her face. "It's a pleasure, Mr. Heavensbee. It's an honor, really. You've made quite a name for yourself in the Capitol over the years. Congratulations are in order for becoming Gamekeeper."

"You are as lovely as everyone says," grinned Plutarch. "And you're one to talk, with your modeling career, and then becoming an Escort so early. You were one of the youngest ones! And now look at you, two Victors under your belt. And you got a promotion, though I heard you turned it down. Never even really considered it."

Haymitch jolted, staring at Effie in shock.

"Not at all. I'm sure people were surprised, but not many people understand the meaning of being a team." She stared at Haymitch coldly before turning warm eyes back on Plutarch. "I'd just love for Peeta and Katniss to meet you. Do you mind excusing me while I got and get them?"

"Not at all. I needed to talk to Haymitch for a brief moment anyway. We'll be right here when you return." They waited until she was out of earshot before saying,

"Is she—"

"No," Haymitch said, cutting him off.

"Why not?"

"Because."

"I think you should tell her."

"Not in a million years," Haymitch says stubbornly. Plutarch looks at him for several moments and then finally shrugs.

"Okay, your call. Listen, there's something you should know."

What he should know he'd never find out, because at that moment Portia comes up to them, practically dragging Katniss and Peeta along. They stopped a few feet away.

"Effie got tied up, but she said to bring Katniss and Peeta to you," Portia breathed. She pulled Plutarch along until Katniss and Peeta stood before him. Katniss looked as if this were the very last place she wanted to be.

Haymitch watches as Plutarch and Peeta exchange words, and then he and Katniss are dancing. They don't dance for long, but Haymitch nearly passes out when he sees Plutarch pull out his pocket watch.

The pocket watch that clearly has the Mockingjay emblem carved onto it.

Plutarch, the little sneak.

He catches the recognition pass against Katniss' face, but then it's gone, and the two of them are whispering again.

Haymitch finally turns away, heading towards the bar, trying to remember why he felt so miserable.

Oh. Yah. Effie.

She'd gotten promoted, and he'd been so angry, but why? Why was he angry? He ordered a drink before he could start dwelling on it, and the fact that she had decided to stay, because he didn't care. He did not care.

He could not care.

Haymitch glanced up and caught Cinna and Portia dancing. He wondered, briefly, what the two of them shared, if anything. And then suddenly Cinna's eye caught his, and Cinna's eyes were so full of sadness, and Haymitch had to turn away and order another drink, because he, like Cinna, knew the dangers of what they were doing, and it'd be a miracle if they all made it back alive.

Before the end of the night, when the alcohol had finally done its job, Effie approached him.

"I suppose you've come for an apology," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have assumed you'd taken the job."

"I'm here because the Tour is not over yet, and you're quickly making up for your lack of drinking in only a couple of hours." She was being cold, and not to mention rude, as she was not even meeting his eye.

He wanted to apologize, but just the thought of wanting to apologize had him biting his tongue. He didn't apologize to Effie, and she didn't apologize to him. That was just them. They fought. They argued. They disagreed. And they got over it and moved on.

"You'll have plenty of time to get back to your drunken nights after we get back to 12."

"Looking forward to it," Haymitch told her, and turned around walked—or rather stumbled—off.

So needless to say he got piss face drunk, because he was Haymitch Abernathy, and that's what the fuck he did.

He made his way to lunch (having slept through breakfast) and it didn't take long for him to wish he'd stayed in his room.

"Oh good, you're up," she says, and started listing off things to do before the next Reaping, namely getting Katniss' engagement underway. "You're not through being her mentor yet," said Effie cheerfully, and it took everything within him not to bang his head on the table.

In between the end of the Victory Tour and Gale getting whipped, Haymitch had a lot of messages from different contacts, the most criptic being from Plutarch.

_QQ: It's all a part of the plan. Don't worry._

He knew what it meant, but he didn't know what it meant. Why should he be warned about the Quarter Quell? He was no longer a mentor, and if anything once the Games started, he figured he'd head to 13, as he'd be more useful there.

All he was worried about was how Katniss and Peeta were going to get to 13, but he'd have to leave that up to Plutarch and trust the man in charge.


	3. Chapter 3

Words: 4,089

By the time it was time for Katniss' photo shoot for her 'wedding,' Haymitch had a few moment alone with Cinna. He came by late into the night as Haymitch hadn't really been apart of everything earlier.

They met near the entrance of Victor's Village where they wouldn't be overheard.

"Have you heard anything?" asked Cinna.

"A few whispers."

"We have most of the Districts on our side. The Capitol hasn't received seafood, music disks, or fabric for quite some time now."

"So I've heard. I've gotten a note from Chaff." Cinna nodded, but Haymitch noticed he seemed… different. "You okay? Nobody suspects you, right?"

"No," he smiled. "Effie told me you're no longer the mentor."

"Shit, Cinna. Don't start."

He flashed a full smile. "You can't tell me you're not a little sad."

"When you guys leave tonight, it won't be goodbye. We'll see each other again, Cinna. You're an important part of this Rebellion, and you're the only Capitol member I know who'll be welcomed with open arms in 13 other than Plutarch."

"I know," Cinna said softly. "We just felt like a team last year."

"You'll have everyone but me."

"It just won't be the same."

He walked away shortly after that and Haymitch watched as Cinna made his way back to Katniss'. Afterwards he made his way back to his own place.

He ignored the knock on his door a few hours later, thinking it was Katniss or Peeta, and they'd either leave him alone or barge in.

He did not expect to hear Effie call his name.

"What the fuck?" asked Haymitch. He stood up from the couch, noting how completely out of place Effie was in his house, with her fabulous dress, made for twirling, cascading around her hips.

"Manners, Haymitch," but she says it automatically, as if its second nature. He just stared at her. "I've come to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?"

"Well… if not goodbye… then for closure."

He sighed and looked away as she stepped up to him.

"You're not a bad person, Haymitch. You just try so hard to be difficult, because it's easier than letting people in."

Was he that damn easy to read?

"I care about you a great deal, you know." She did? "I mean I've known you for twenty years. I won't deny it'll be strange, knowing you're no longer the mentor of this District. I don't know how I'll act knowing I won't have to make my way over here a couple of hours before the Reaping to make sure you're dressed and sober enough to look decent."

"You could always come in and say hi."

"Maybe I will," she said softly, but they both knew she wouldn't. "Promise me you'll take care of yourself. I won't ask you to stop drinking. Just… slow down a little, will you?"

"I'll think about it."

She offered him a sad smile. "Thank you, for getting us two Victors. It's bittersweet, really. I never thought getting Winners meant losing you." Losing him? Did she want to keep him?

She hesitates, and then steps up to him, kissing him softly on the cheek.

"Goodbye, Haymitch Abernathy."

He watched her as she walked away. She reached the door, paused, and turned around. "If for some crazy reason you're ever in the Capitol, look me up. Goodbye."

He waited until she had been gone for several moments before whispering, "Goodbye, Effie Trinket," softly into the night.

xXxXxX

The thought that he probably would never see Effie again did not have time to form into his brain because the next day, after the exclusive pictures of Katniss were released, the Quarter Quell announcement came on.

"On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

First, he was frozen with shock.

Then he was blind with anger.

The rage that overtook him was foreign to even him.

He remembered throwing a bottle at the TV, hardly caring or realizing that he was wasting alcohol.

It didn't take long for Peeta to come to his place.

"What a surprise," he muttered.

He listened to Peeta claim how he'd volunteer for him and they had to protect Katniss; how Haymitch owed Peeta for choosing Katniss over him. He let Peeta blabber on, not really hearing him, agreeing to words he never really heard.

About forty-five minutes later Katniss came.

He was ready for her, not blindsided like he had been with Peeta.

Still, he only remembered telling her that she could live a hundred lifetimes and never deserve Peeta.

And then they drank.

Peeta was pissed the next day, and Haymitch felt bad, but how else did the boy expect him to cope?

If he drank, he wouldn't have to think about it.

If he didn't he'd have to think, remember everything, and he spent every single moment trying to forget.

Peeta started on his campaign to get everybody in shape, and Haymitch made a vow not to drink as much.

So when Chaff entered his house, late, late one night, a few days after Snow's announcement, he wasn't drunk, nor asleep, and it was a blessing, really, because otherwise Chaff would have gotten stabbed to death.

"What the _hell_?" asked Haymitch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I couldn't warn you that I'd be here."

"What the fuck?"

"Haymitch, I don't have much time. It was Plutarch's idea to have former Victors in the Quarter Quell."

And then it hit him, full force, in the gut: the note, about it all being apart of the plan, and not to worry.

"He wants us to start an alliance with as many people as we can. Most of the Tributes are already in on it. But you can't tell Katniss or Peeta."

Haymitch sat down. "Are you serious?"

Chaff nodded, taking his cue from Haymitch and sitting down as well.

"He knew it'd be just the thing to start a Rebellion, and he was right. Finnick was on board at once."

"_Finnick_?" scoffed Haymitch. "Finnick _Odair_?"

"I know," Chaff chuckled. "It surprised me too. Then he became somber. "Snow's prostituted him out, Haymitch."

Haymitch stood up again, quickly. "_What_?!" Chaff nodded as Haymitch slowly sat back down. "Beetee and Wiress, along with Johanna, are also on board. The ones who aren't—"

"The Careers," guessed Haymitch.

Chaff nodded. "We didn't even _attempt_ to talk to them. I have to get back. I only wanted to tell you because I was afraid you'd drink yourself to death if you didn't know."

"Peeta's got us training like Careers, so I'm not allowed to drink."

Chaff laughed. "I like that kid. Katniss too."

"Me too," admitted Haymitch as Chaff left.

Keeping his promise to Peeta, on the day of the Reaping, he was once again completely sober when Effie Trinket walked through his door.

And she was a mess.

One word was all it took.

"Effie?" he asked, approaching her.

"Haymitch," was all she got out, before she crumbled to the ground, breathing heavily and crying.

He stood there, frozen for a few seconds before he stepped up to her.

"Effie." He slowly bent down to her and she clung to him, her body shaking. "Effie, stop." She wrapped her arms around him, nearly knocking him over, and he let her have her moment. Actually he gave her five whole minutes.

And then he snapped.

"Effie, stop it!" He stood up, pulling her with him.

"Don't make me do it," gulped Effie. "I can't. I _cannot_ send Katniss back to her death, or you or Peeta. Please."

"Effie, listen to me. _Listen_." He gripped her tightly, shaking her enough to get her attention. She hiccupped, her eyes red, her makeup blotched. "Stop crying. You pull yourself together and fly right. The Capitol doesn't give a shit about your tears. You stand tall and proud, reapply that cake to your face, straighten your wig, and you pull those names out of that bowl with your normal cheerful happiness."

"I _won't_," she snapped back. "I'm so _tired_ of it, Haymitch! For twenty _years_ I've sentenced children to their bloody deaths, and for the past fifteen it's been a pain in the _ass_. How the hell am I supposed to draw your name, or Peeta's name? And Katniss has no choice!"

"Stop crying, Princess," said Haymitch, wiping her eyes. "You cannot show any emotion other than happiness. I mean it." His voice was forceful. She opened her mouth and he cut her off. "Damn it Effie, I'm serious! Just shut up and do your job! You _cannot_ break down. Not now. You will smile. You'll preach to us all about manners. You'll make the Avoxes clean up after us. You do not let your guard down for _anyone_, unless we're alone, and even then I don't really want you to. Now go clean yourself up."

She stiffened as she stared at him, and then slowly nodded. He wiped her tears again, frowning, and pushed her in the direction of the bathroom.

Once she was gone he walked to his cabinet, pulled out a bottle, and took a long sip. He then gripped the counter, tightly, pleading for his raging emotions to calm down.

He had no idea why seeing her break down like that nearly broke him.

This was Effie fucking Trinket, Darling citizen of the fucking Capitol, and she had no right, no fucking right to be upset.

He sighed as he realized that wasn't true. He had noticed a change in her, noticed the force in her smile as she read off those kids' names. She hated calling on the younger ones. She had a conscious, he knew she did.

But that didn't change the fact that she was Effie Trinket, Darling citizen of the Capitol.

When he heard her come in he turned around, taking note of her outfit and its symbolism.

"Fucking butterflies," he groaned. "Effie."

"Cinna's design," she said again, and he reminded himself to have a long talk with Cinna.

"And if Snow gets its symbolism the same way I just did?"

Effie shrugged indifferently. Before Haymitch could argue she took a deep breath. Her lower lip trembled but she sucked in another breath and firmed them.

"Don't be sad, Princess. You got your wish: we're gonna be a team again."

"How are you _joking_?" Effie stalked up to him, her eyes blazing. "There is nothing, absolutely _nothing_ funny about this."

He sobered up at once, seeing she was serious, and isn't that a bitch, him actually listening to Effie. "You're right," he told her. "I'm just trying to make you feel better."

She closed her eyes, briefly, but when they fluttered open she had forced on a smile, her shoulders back, chin up.

"There's my girl," Haymitch said before he could think about it, and the blush that shadowed her cheeks made him look away. "Katniss and Peeta need you to be strong. No matter whose name is called, you need to be strong. No tears."

"No tears," repeated Effie. She walked passed him, brushing his arm lightly. "See you on stage, Haymitch. Prepare to see me give the performance of my life."

xXxXxX

She wouldn't have won any Oscars. There was no video this year, no "May the odds be ever in your favor," because Effie knew, in her heart, that the odds were _never_ in their favor. The longest part of the ceremony was watching her take twenty minutes to pull the single sheet of paper that the entire world knew had 'Katniss Everdeen' written on it.

Haymitch nearly lost his shit watching her read his name, her lower lip slightly trembling, her bright blue eyes dimmed and lost.

And then Peeta volunteered, and he barely registered the relief in Effie's eyes, nearly instantly replaced by sadness.

By the time they were forced on the train, without his former Tributes being allowed to say goodbye to their families, Haymitch's face was set.

Whenever, however the Rebellion played out, all hell would break lose when this war started.

They had officially pissed him the fuck off.

He gave Effie credit. She did her best to be Effie, and he tried his best to be Haymitch, mean and surly, until he noticed she'd switched her wig to a gold symbol of the Mockingjay. Didn't she know how dangerous that was? Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe in the Capitol Snow allowed it as a symbol of the Games.

It didn't matter. He wanted it off her head, and he barely heard her as she commented about them getting gold gifts to symbolize that they were a team.

He watched the old Games for as long as he could before he got up, without a word, wishing to God Effie hadn't been so damn noble and gotten rid of the alcohol.

He was about to go to bed when he saw Effie's light on. He knocked softly and she called for him to come in.

She was sitting at her desk, dressed in a robe that was most likely covering a nightgown. Her face was still made but the wig was off, and her golden curls were around her shoulders.

"It's rude to stare, Haymitch," she told him, staring at him from the mirror.

"Don't wear the wig anymore," was Haymitch's response, coming in and closing the door.

"What?" Effie turned to look at him.

"The Mockingjay wig. Don't wear it."

"But it symbolizes us as a team." She stood up and crossed over to pick the wig up off of the dresser.

"Then find a different gold one. Just don't wear that particular one."

"Why not?"

"Because it's dangerous," snapped Haymitch, and she arched an eyebrow at his tone. He sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I could really use a drink. Not drinking makes me cranky."

"Yes, you're definitely a lot more pleasant to be around when you're drunk," Effie said sarcastically.

He rolled his eyes, though she didn't see it as she turned her back to him. When she turned back around she had a bottle of wine in her hand.

"I won't wear the wig, Haymitch, if you promise not tell them I got you this. I feel like you deserve it, after the Reaping. But it's all I'm giving you. And don't drink it all at once."

He was tempted to ask her to have a glass with him, but the words wouldn't form in his mouth. Neither would 'thank you.'

"Great. Goodnight."

She waited until she thought he wouldn't be able to hear her, but he still heard the soft whisper of goodnight at his back.

It stayed with him for the rest of the night.

He gave up on sleep several hours later and made his way to the living quarters, where he found Katniss and Peeta up watching…

His Games.

Shit.

He had a few moments to gather his thoughts, to control himself, when he hears Katniss laughing about how the force field was just as bad as the berries.

"Not quite," he told her, smirking as she whipped her head around. He took a sip of wine and watched as her eyes narrowed, but she didn't say anything. Then he saw the flicker, the determination in her eyes, as she figured out that maybe Haymitch was more than an old drunk.

Well he could certainly drink to that.

xXxXxX

The next morning they made their way to the Capitol Training Center, and it didn't take long for Haymitch to realize there was a definite… shift in the atmosphere.

Folks were… angry. He heard what used to be excited whispers now came out as angry buzzing. Smiles were frowns, and eyes held sadness, not laughter.

Haymitch hopes Effie can keep her cool.

While Katniss and Peeta were in training, Haymitch made his way to the living room, where he found Effie.

Crying.

"Effie," he says softly, holding in a sigh. "I thought we talked about this." He walked up to her.

She choked out a sob. "I'm just so _hurt_, Haymitch. Everything, _everything_ you ever said about my beloved Capitol was right."

"Shhh," he said, pulling her into him, and it was something about her touch that made him forget that their living room could be bugged.

He forgot everything the minute he touched her.

"No matter what happens, only one of them are coming out alive. The Capitol will never allow for two Victors again," cried Effie.

"It'll be okay. I promise."

The conviction in his voice, the fact that he promises, made her look into his eyes.

Sensing perhaps he's said too much, he forced smile and tried to walk away from her.

"Haymitch…" Effie stared at him, her eyes searching his, and the only reason he didn't look away because he felt like doing so would give him away. "Haymitch, what aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, suddenly avoiding eye contact.

"I know you. You can't be with someone for twenty years and not know them. I won't lie, you surprised me last year with your clever concoctions, star-struck loves scheme, and getting sponsorships for our Tributes. _This_ was the Haymitch Abernathy I'd been waiting for, the brilliant boy I'd seen in the 50th Hunger Games, who walked out a man and as a Victor. You weren't drinking as much, and there was a spark in those eyes, a spark I hadn't seen in all the years I'd worked with you. But what's that brewing in those crystal clear grey eyes now? Something simmering much more brightly than a simple spark. Last year was hope. This year…" Effie grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her, "There's determination. What are you determined about, Haymitch?"

He was paralyzed for a few moments, and then he regained some sense and backed away. "You're losing it. Is your wig on too tight Princess?"

"Haymitch, what do you have up your sleeve?"

"Nothing, Effie."

"You have never lied to me, in twenty years." Her voice was cold.

"Just... let it alone, Effie."

"Let what alone?" Haymitch turned away from her and didn't speak. "I get it. You still think I'm some Capitol puppet."

"Aren't you?"

"I was wrong." Now her voice was like ice, and he had to stop himself from cringing. "I guess you _can_ be with someone for twenty years and not know them. You don't know me at all." She walked away and Haymitch closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

"You should tell her." Cinna's voice, and words, made him open his eyes in shock.

"Are you crazy?"

"We're all crazy, Haymitch. She should know."

"She's more the Darling of the Capitol than Katniss ever will be."

"You're prejudice against her kind, but Effie isn't like that. Not anymore."

"Cinna—"

"She deserves to know. She deserves to be able to choose, Haymitch. What happens if we don't tell her, and we find out she would have wanted to know?"

"And what happens if we do, and she goes off and tells the closest peacekeeper she can find?"

"If you think that's who Effie is, you're more fucked up than I thought," Cinna said quietly. "Have you ever looked into her eyes, Haymitch? Have you ever _seen_ Effie?"

"How can I with all that shit on her face?"

"It's a defense mechanism, the same way drinking is for you. It's her mask. She puts it on for people who are too afraid to look at her, the real her. You never struck me as a coward, Haymitch."

"Can you really see Effie Trinket, in a _war_ Cinna? In a real fucking war?"

_Ah. Now we're getting somewhere_, Cinna thought.

"She's not glass, Haymitch. She won't break. You two are walking around on eggshells. Peeta already suspects, and though Katniss is too pure to catch on, the rest of us can cut the sexual tension with a knife." Haymitch paled. "And do you think I didn't notice the way you grabbed her hand in case you had to run at a moment's notice during Katniss' speech in 11? The way you immediately went to her defense, to make sure she was safe?"

Haymitch paused and then exploded. "I can't save everybody! I don't even know if I'll be able to save myself. At least Katniss and Peeta are fighters. I don't need to be worried about Effie too. She walks around, oblivious to it all, enjoying bringing people to their untimely, unfortunate deaths, never once thinking in all her prim and proper glory that pulling their names is sentencing them to their deaths, and there's nothing prim and proper about that!"

"She cares, Haymitch," and now Cinna's voice was raised. "Who do you think she ran to when Snow announced that the current Tributes had to be taken from a pool of former Victors? She came to my place, distraught, in tears, crying for _you_, and Katniss and Peeta. She broke down, said she was tired of it all, tired of pretending, and if it weren't for you three she'd give it all up, right then and there." Haymitch shook his head, unable to say anything. "You can't tell me that you've never heard her crying over dead Tributes over the years."

"Yah but only because it means she wont ever transfer to a higher district"

"You know that's not true. You know damn well she was offered a promotion and turned it down. You wanna know what I think? I think you drink so much so you don't have to care about her, because you hate her for what she represents, not for who she is, and that scares you, so you pretend to hate her."

"It's easier that way!"

"So it's easier to pretend she's some Capitol pawn so you won't have to worry about her?"

"I can't lose anymore people, Cinna!" And he took a glass and threw it at the wall, and watched it shatter to thousands of pieces. Just like him. They broke, just like him.

"So you do care."

"I don't even know _how_ I started to. Life was so much easier when I didn't. I don't even know how I let Katniss and Peeta in. In my mind Effie was the Capitol marionette, and being that was gonna keep her safe. I don't even know when I even started to want her safe."

He paused, as that wasn't entirely true. He remembered yesterday, at the Reaping, how _sad_ and sorry she'd looked. She'd seemed so defeated, as if she'd finally been convinced of something that she'd never wanted to be true. She'd been different this year, more different than last year, and last year they actually bonded over Peeta and Katniss. Yet he couldn't dwell on it, because he was Haymitch Abernathy and she was Effie Trinket, and they were not supposed to be friends, so when he found himself wondering about her, yah he drowned himself in alcohol, hell fucking yah he did, because she belonged to the Capitol, even if for the first time he wondered if she was as trapped there as he was in 12.

"When Plutarch asked me about Effie," he finally continued, "asking if she would be a Rebel, I brushed it off, saying she belonged to the Capitol. And she should. Got damn it she should. Because there's no room for makeup and wigs in this Rebellion, Cinna, and I can't spend every moment making sure she's okay."

"I think you should be tired of pretending that you don't care. It must be exhausting." He stepped up to Haymitch. "Give her a chance to prove it to you: she's stronger than you think. And she cares about Katniss and Peeta, and she cares about you, whether you wan to admit it or not. She has the right to choose her place in the Rebellion, Haymitch. You don't have the right to choose for her. Besides, if you don't tell her, think of the heart attack she's gonna have when we pull off our stunt with Katniss' dress during the Interview."

"Jesus, Cinna. Are you sure about this?"

"I am. And deep down you are too. Because she was right, originally. You can't be with someone twenty years and not know them. You know her, Haymitch. And if you don't… look into her eyes. They're still the windows to the soul."

Haymitch watched as Cinna walked out, leaving him to his thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

Effie and Haymitch avoided each other as much as possible, barely speaking through dinner. That was fine with Haymitch. He wanted to talk to Katniss and Peeta about their allies anyway.

He ordered a bottle of wine, but they didn't know it was really juice.

It was too risky to drink.

Though fighting—were they fighting?—with Effie made him want to drink.

That night he thought long and hard about what Cinna said. He couldn't deny he wanted her safe, and wanting her safe meant he did care about her. But how? When? And damn it, _why_? She was everything he hated, from her wig at the top of her stubborn head down to the stupid six-inch stilettos she wore on her feet.

"_You hate what she represents_." Cinna's words came back to him.

Sighing he finally willed himself to sleep, as dawn approached.

That was fine. He hated the night anyway.

xXxXxX

At dinner the next night, things definitely got interesting. He was happy to hear Effie scolding Peeta for drawing Rue, but he doubted that anybody else heard the underlying panic in her voice.

She wanted them alive.

Haymitch prided himself on his disdain for the Capitol, but if Peeta wasn't careful, there'd be no way he'd make it out that Arena alive.

And then Katniss explained how she hung a dummy and named it Seneca Crane.

Effie burst into tears and left the room, and it took everything in Haymitch not to follow her.

By the time their scores were announced, he was seething.

He always knew Katniss was too much like him.

He waited until everyone was in bed before heading to Effie's. He knew she was still upset. She hadn't left her room since pressing the napkin to her face and fleeing away from the table.

"Effie," he knocked, "open up, it's me."

No answer.

"I know you're awake. I can see the light on."

Dead silence.

"Princess, you either open the door I'm breaking it down. Your choice."

Finally the door sprung open, and there was Effie, wig and makeup off, and damn it all to hell if he didn't nearly swoon.

He needed a drink.

Or thirty.

"Don't you know it's _rude_ to force yourself into a person's room?" asked Effie angrily.

"Don't you know it's _rude_ to ignore a person when they're trying to talk to you?" Haymitch asked in response.

She scowled and then all the anger seemed to deflate. Sighing she moved aside to let him in.

He took in her appearance, noting her eyes were still red and puffy.

"Did you love him?" asked Haymitch.

He didn't know where the hell that came from.

"Who?"

He just arched an eyebrow, as if to say, 'You know who.'

She sighed and sat on the bed. "No. Seneca and I were… well I guess he was like you and me."

"Excuse me?" He felt his defenses kick in as he realized that statement offended him, though he wasn't sure why.

"Well, no, not exactly like us, because we're a bit more… complicated, are we not?" Haymitch just stared at her. "I'm not explaining this correctly." She took a deep breath and continued. "I cared about Seneca. Though I suspected he may have loved me, I did not reciprocate the same feelings. We were friends…. We went on a few dates, shared a few kisses, but… there was never any heat, or spark. But I cared about him enough that his death hurt me. I am saddened by death. But Seneca's death hurt."

"And mine? What would my death do to you?" He wasn't even sure why he was asking. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Don't talk like that," she snapped, and the panic in her voice startled him. "I can't picture you dying. I did enough of that when Snow announced who would enter the Quarter Quell."

"Aw, Princess, I had no idea you cared." He realized he had said something wrong when she turned arctic blue eyes on him. "I was kidding, Effie. Joking. Jesus." He reached out and grabbed her hand. "We are rather complicated, aren't we?"

"We don't have to be." She stood up then, and suddenly the air was thick, because she was looking at him in a way she never had before, a way that made him hot around the collar.

He wanted to say something, anything, really, but he was speechless, genuinely speechless.

And then her lips were on his and everything fell apart.

There was no Rebellion, not talks of war. Hell there were no Games, no Tributes who needed saving; there wasn't even alcohol to be drunk. She was his alcohol. He was dizzy, but he couldn't stop drinking, tasting her.

When she moaned it snapped it back him back to reality, and how she was pinned against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, being held in his arms he'd never know. He genuinely had no idea how she'd gotten there.

He stiffened as if trying to powerfully force his emotions to stop swirling around and quickly place themselves way down deep in… wherever the fuck they'd been for the past twenty-five years.

"Haymitch," she whispered, as if she could read his thoughts.

"I can't," Haymitch whispered back. "I want to. But I really can't." _I don't know how_, he thought.

"Do you think not doing so will keep me safe?"

Surprise makes him drop her, but he doesn't let her go. Instead he looked at her, really looked at her, staring into her deep blue eyes.

She knows.

In a split decision he pulled her and forced her into the bathroom. She gasped and started to hiss his name but he put her hand over her mouth, slamming the door behind him. He kept her mouth covered until he had turned on the shower.

"Stay here, and shut up," he told her firmly, and then he disappeared into her room, unplugging the radio on the night table next to her bed, and returning to the bathroom.

He plugged the radio up and turned that on too.

"What I'm about to tell you is really dangerous."

"Rebellion's always been dangerous, Haymitch."

"You could be killed for just hearing this—" He blinked as what she said.

She stared at him, her lips still red from their kiss.

"What do you know?" asked Haymitch.

"You," was her response. "I know you. Most Districts are Rebelling, and it only makes sense that you'd be in the midst of it." Her voice was low as she talked quickly. Then she slid her arms around his neck, and he was too frozen to move. "So not sleeping with me won't keep me safe. I'm already guilty by association."

He grabbed her waist and pushed her back. "Don't. Don't talk like that, Effie. Who told you? Who told you about the Rebellion?"

"You confirmed it, right now," she told him. "I've suspected since the day of the Reaping, when I visited you. You just seemed… too in control of your emotions." She paused as they stared at each other. "I'm not stupid, Haymitch."

"No," he said, finally smiling. "You're definitely not stupid, Princess. I'm the stupid one. Cinna said we should tell you."

"Cinna." Her eyes fluttered closed. When they opened again they were filled with sadness. "I'm in."

"Effie—"

"They forced my Tributes, my Victors, back into the Arena for their stupid Games." She paused, her eyes leaving its cloudy state of turmoil to blinding hot anger. "Fuck the Capitol."

Maybe because there's been sexual tension between them, at the very least since the Victory Ball at Snow's mansion… or perhaps it was because of the kisses that had taken place but a few moments ago. More realistically, though, it was those words that made him lose it. Whatever the true reason was, at that last statement, he crushed his mouth to hers.

She immediately kissed him back, running her fingers through his hair. He picked her up, forcing her onto the small sink, lifting her nightdress as he did.

When his hands slid up her thigh she stopped him.

He froze.

"Haymitch, there's nothing else in the world I want more than this, but please don't make our first time in the bathroom, on top of the _sink_ of all things."

He blinked at her for several moments and then barked out a laugh.

"Holy shit, Princess. I don't know what to do with you." He ran his fingers over his face, his hands shaking, actually _shaking_ with desire.

She slid off the sink, turning to the shower and shutting it off. Then she grabbed his hand and made her to her bed.

Clothes were thrown aside as the feeling in the pit of his stomach reached an all time high. All he wanted to do was get to Effie, and get to her quickly. It seemed to take forever for the nightdress to find its way off of her body.

He couldn't undress fast enough, and she seemed to agree, because halfway through she removed his hands and started unbuttoning his shirt with rapid speed, and he had no idea how she was doing it with those long nails.

Those nails dug into his flesh the minute he was inside of her.

He had never thought about what this would be like. He'd never allowed himself to think about it, with anyone, but particularly Effie, but got damn it if it didn't feel absolutely perfect and right, with a hint of desperation.

The way she whispered his name, over and over again, the way she cried out when he made her cum, the way her body blushed from the pleasure made him forget everything.

There was nothing.

No one.

But Effie.

So when he called her name, when he finally came, it was the only name he could think of, the only name that existed in his brain.

Afterwards he collapsed next to her, both of them breathing hard.

It took all of three seconds for it to him.

"Oh shit. I just killed you." It hit him like a ton of bricks. "I just killed you." He was suffocating. "This was stupid. So stupid. I'm not drunk enough for this. Nowhere near drunk enough. I'm not drunk at all." He sat up, not looking at her. He couldn't look at her. He started rummaging around for his shirt, his hands shaking for an entirely different now.

"Haymitch." Her voice was quiet, quiet enough for him to pretend he didn't hear her and ignore her, which he did. "I know you heard me, Haymitch."

He grabbed his pants, putting them on, his mind racing, ears buzzing.

And then heard a deafening silence when Effie walked up to him, dressed in the undershirt he forgot to put back on underneath his button up.

He saw the fierceness in her eyes and spoke before she could.

"The Capitol doesn't play fair, Effie," he whispered urgently. "If they find out about this, it'll be your life."

"Well I think you're worth the risk," said Effie firmly.

Well shit. He hadn't expected that to touch him.

"I can't," he told her, repeating the words from earlier.

"Can't what? Can't allow yourself to care?"

"Exactly. Snow's taken everybody I've ever cared about away. He even found a way to get Katniss and Peeta back in the Arena. I can't." He grabbed her hand, pleading with his eyes for her to understand. "You get it, don't you? They'll kill you. And I don't… I can't… I don't know what I'd do, Effie."

"You let Snow win, Haymitch," she told him. "You allowed him to make you stop loving and caring. You just get drunk, hoping they never take the time to see the broken man underneath, and shut people out."

"Shutting people out normally keeps them safe."

"And what does it do to you?"

He had no answer to that.

He watched as her blue eyes frosted over to winter blue. "If you think I'm about to sit here and let you shut me out," she said softly, meticulously, coolly, "then you'll have a hell of a fight on your hands, Mr. Abernathy."

"This is not a joke, Effie," snapped Haymitch.

She slid her hands to his cheek. "No. It's a Game. Another silly Game the Capitol is forcing us to play. So we'll pretend to hate each other in public. You'll pretend to be drunk and I'll pretend to be disgusted."

"It's more than that. We have to be cold to each other."

"Genuinely dislike each other."

"Barely tolerate each other type shit."

"So in other words, act normal," she says with a smile.

He slowly nodded. "We can't slip, Effie. No touching, no comforting, no nothing. If we're not in our bedroom… anywhere else is off limits."

"_Our_ bedroom?" asked Effie.

He flushed.

Shit. What the fuck was she doing to him?

"Okay," Effie nodded. She leaned up and kissed him again, and he slowly kissed her back. What was he doing?

"You have to keep a cool head, because you have to think about your family. You have to protect them."

Suddenly he wondered why he even ever told her.

She moved towards his ear. "I was going to join this Rebellion whether you told me or not," she whispered, once again reading his mind. "So stop regretting your decision. What's done is done."

"You can't come with us. You know that right? When the shit hits the fan, and it will, you have to stay in the Capitol. Where we're going… they won't take to you kindly."

"What about Katniss and Peeta?"

"They are not your concern." She stared at him, her eyes flashing, and he quickly corrected himself. "Not like that. I didn't mean like that. I mean your priority has to be to protect yourself and your family, at all costs." She didn't respond. "I'm scared for you, Princess."

"I knew the risk when I asked you to tell me what was going on."

"I can't keep you safe in the Capitol." He brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"You'd be in a lot more danger here than I will be," she told him. "Don't worry about me. I can play my part well. We'll get through this. You'll see."

He wasn't sure if it was her optimism or naivety, but he let her hold on to that hope.

One of them should be hopeful.

Later than night, after she'd convinced him to stay, he woke up, a scream in his throat, as a nightmare plagued him.

But for the first time ever, he had someone next to him.

Effie slid on top of him, whispering words of comfort that he never quite caught.

And then he was inside of her again, and it was soft, and sweet, two things Haymitch never thought he'd be again.

When they were finished she curled up next to him, and he marveled at the way his arm automatically wrapped around her.

Before he could think, or talk himself out of it, he spoke a phrase that he knew he meant with all his heart: "This was the best dumb decision of my life."

Effie smiled against his chest.

The next morning Haymitch turned to Effie. "I should probably go before the kids wake up," he told her quietly.

"Let's give them the day off," Effie suggested.

Haymitch just blinked at her.

"You think it's a bad idea?"

"Not at all. I'm just wondering who the hell you are and what you've done with Effie Trinket."

"She's here. She just had a long night and she's exhausted."

Haymitch snorted.

"So what do you think? Should we have a day off?"

Figuring he had no idea when he'd have another opportunity, they went for it.

After writing a note and giving it to an Avox, making sure Haymitch wasn't seen inside of Effie's room, they spent the day together. Katniss and Peeta didn't seek them out, nor did they seek out their Tributes.

Nor did they make it to dinner.

xXxXxX

Before Cinna went to finish Katniss' prepping he snuck into the Penthouse in hopes of catching Haymitch alone.

The odds were in his favor.

"I haven't had the time to tell you this," Cinna started, turning up the TV, "but Snow sent me a wedding dress for Katniss.

"Well, shit." Haymitch scowled.

"Don't worry. I've one upped the President." Haymitch turned to him. "I don't want to tell you."

"Don't do anything stupid, Cinna."

"Too late."

Haymitch didn't like the look in Cinna's eyes. "What will Portia say if something happens to you?"

"Probably the same thing Effie will say if something happens to you."

Fucking A. Touché.

"You talked to Effie," he said to Haymitch.

Haymitch became stock-still. "What makes you say that?"

Cinna shrugged. "There's something different about her. Nothing noticeable. I just know her."

Haymitch weighed his options in his head. "Yah, I told her," he said, finally deciding on honesty.

"Good."

"Why good?"

"Because if she had no idea what I'd do to said wedding dress, she'd pull out her wig."

"I'm not gonna tell her. The less she knows, the safer she'll be."

xXxXxX

They heard her heels clicking briskly before they saw her. Cinna and Haymitch shared a quick glance before Haymitch turned up the TV.

"Are you _crazy_?" hissed out Effie. "You're going to get yourself _killed_."

Cinna forced a smile. "You may be right," he told her nonchalantly.

"I can't believe you… do you have any idea how _dangerous_ that was?"

"They were mocking her, Effie," explained Cinna. "Snow sent her that wedding dress knowing—"

"I don't give a damn what Snow was doing. You did not have to play his Games. What if something happens to you?" Before she let Cinna speak she whirled on Haymitch. "Did you know about this?"

Haymitch stared at her. "I knew he had another dress. I had no idea it would be a Mockingjay."

She turned back to Cinna. "Do you _have_ a death wish?"

"I just wanted—"

"I don't care what you wanted! You think we want you dead?"

"That's the reality, Effie," snapped Cinna. She looked taken aback and Cinna sighed. "The truth is I don't know how many of us are going to make it out of this war alive. But I knew what I was doing when I made that dress."

Effie stared at Cinna for a few moments and then burst into tears, running out of the room.

Haymitch sighed. "I'll go talk to her."

He had gotten to the door when he called after Haymitch. "Tell her… tell her I'm sorry."

And he truly looked it.

As he was walking towards Effie he noticed Portia running towards the living room.

Poor Cinna was about to get it from everybody.

xXxXxX

Haymitch didn't get to speak with Effie until later that night. She had refused to answer the door, and understanding that she was upset, he left her alone.

He woke up with a start, his heart pounding, a scream in his throat, and nearly fell out the bed at the sight of Effie hovering over him.

"Jesus Christ woman," he snapped, clutching his heart. "If you're gonna kill me, then kill me. Don't draw it out by giving me a heart attack."

He was still panting when she returned with a glass of water that he sincerely wished was alcohol.

"What are you doing here?"

"I… heard you." He didn't meet her eye but scooted over to give her room when she sat next to him. She still had some makeup on, and her wig was in place, but she wore another nightdress. "It's not the first time. I used to wake up to your nightmares. Sometimes I'd standing outside door, debating whether or not to come in. I could hear the knife slashing the air. I didn't know if it was my place to come in."

"Why'd you come in tonight?"

"You know why, Haymitch."

She ran her fingers through his hair and he actually found himself leaning into her touch.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she told him. He stiffened and then turned on the radio. Once it was on she continued. "I couldn't face you. What if Cinna dies? What if _you_ die?"

"Would that be so terrible?"

She turned to look at him so fast it was a miracle she didn't catch a crook in her neck.

"Did you join the Rebellion out of anger for the Capitol or as a suicide mission?"

"Honestly, Princess, they're one in the same."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm scared, Haymitch."

"What are you afraid for? You're safe."

"I'm not worried about me. I don't want to lose Cinna, or you, or anybody. And what about Katniss and Peeta?" She took a calming breath and looked at him. "How long is it before you all leave me behind?"

Haymitch hesitated. "I don't know," he told her honestly. "It could be at a moment's notice."

"So what am I supposed to do?"

"Enjoy the time we have."

"The time we have is spent pretending to hate each other."

"Not _all_ the time," he told her with a smirk.

"Most of the time."

"What do you want me to do, Effie? Parade around how I feel about you and put you in danger?"

"How _do_ you feel, Haymitch?"

"Aw shit." He sighed and finally laid back on the bed. She followed suit.

"Never mind," she said suddenly. "I don't want to know. You can tell me when the war's over." She turned to him. "Deal? After this is all over, you can tell me. I don't want to hear anything come out of your mouth that you feel obligated to say."

He sighed. "Go wash the rest of that shit off your face." He tugged at her wig and flung it across the room. "Let me see the real Effie.

"Manners, Haymitch," she told him, but she made her way to his restroom.

"You don't need any of that crap on, you know that right?" asked Haymitch as he watched her rinse off the rest of her makeup.

"It's just not fashionable to not wear it. I might as well not even wear clothes if I don't wear makeup."

"It's a way to hide your true self."

She stared at him. "Exactly. The more makeup, the less people can see."

"What do you have to hide?"

"My hatred for it all." Her voice was cold. "Did you know I used to model?"

"Yah, I heard something about that."

Effie nodded. "I loved it. I loved dressing up and the fashion and the heels and the makeup. But I wanted to work _for_ my beloved Capitol, too. Modeling was fun. But there was more to me than that. So I applied to be an Escort and was _thrilled_ when I made it. And the best part of all was that I'd still be able to model. The Games would only take up a few months out of my life. I could spend the rest of my time modeling, if I kept to a strict schedule. The two had absolutely no relation." She stared at him. "How stupid was that? It didn't take long for me to realize how ghastly the whole damn thing was. And suddenly my smile wasn't as wide when I posed for the camera. All of a sudden my eyes didn't reflect as brightly to the flash of the camera. There were… whispers that I had lost my spark, and the truth was that I had…. The death was taking its toll on me. Instead of no longer being an Escort, I quit modeling. Why I did that to myself, I'll never know. People said I made the right decision, and that my loyalty should lie with the Capitol and its Games. It's been so hard, Haymitch. I hate every bloody moment of it all. How do I live with myself knowing that I've sentenced all these people to death?"

"I've asked myself the same question for the past twenty-five years, Princess."

"You never get peace as a Victor."

Haymitch thought of Katniss and Peeta, and Finnick, and Johanna and Chaff. He shook his head. "No. No you don't."

"But you're still here. You haven't runaway. You're fighting."

Haymitch reached out for her hand. "And so are you."

He took her then, against the bathroom door, and afterwards, when she'd untangled her legs from around his waist and pulled her nightdress down, he heard mutter something that distinctly sounded like, "That was _not_ very proper of me."

He snorted. "Guess I'm rubbing off on you."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she groaned as she got into bed.

xXxXxX

Last year Haymitch and Effie were tense, having finally found two Victors who were prospects. This year the tension were unbearable. The good thing is that Haymitch didn't have to worry about getting sponsors for food because Katniss and Peeta had formed allies. District 4 and 7 sent the bread while Haymitch sent the materials.

The past couple of days hadn't helped the tension at all. Cinna was still missing, and Effie couldn't bare to say goodbye to her Tributes again. She locked herself in her room, in tears. Haymitch had come back and told her about Katniss and Peeta's goodbyes, which only made her cry harder.

When he came back from getting the spiel he found Effie in the exact same spot, in the living room, standing, watching the screen.

"How on earth are you still standing in those sky scrapers?" he asked, heading to the bar.

"I've been wearing these things since I was ten," said Effie distractedly. Haymitch stared at her in shock but she didn't look his way. He joined her in the living room but flopped down on the couch.

"Jesus, Princess, take a seat. You're making me nervous by standing."

"How can you sit at a time like this?"

"At a time like what? They're drinking and eat for fuck's sake."

"_Language_, Haymitch." She finally turned and faced him, her eyes dark with dislike.

"That ain't what you said last night, Princess," he said, his eyes twinkling. He burst out into laughter at she blushed. "Loosen your corset. Sit down."

It was one of the few times he got to laugh.

He damn near lost it when Chaff was killed.

Even as Peeta avenged his death, Haymitch made his way to his room, breathing hard, trying to remind himself that Chaff's death would not be in vain. People were going to die. This just came with the territory.

It did not stop him from crying for his friend.

When Effie came to his door to comfort him, he ignored her. She tried for a solid hour, and he had to give her credit, but he kept quiet. When she finally left he let the silent tears force him to sleep, where he dreamt of mutt mutations with Effie's eyes and gold wig. They killed Katniss, Peeta, and Chaff, but kept him alive, so that he could live out the rest of his days alone and miserable.

He woke with a start, and realized that he needed a real drink. He had one real bottle of white liquor in the kitchen that he told himself he would not use, but he needed it, he really, really needed it.

He opened his door and nearly tripped over something in the middle of the hallway.

"Effie, what the fuck?" She was in front of his door, a blanket wrapped around her.

"I wanted to be close to you."


End file.
